


Shirt fitting

by mellyb6



Series: And Then There Were Four [11]
Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: But after Tréville is gone don't worry, Family Dinners, Father's Day, Mati, Multi, New Shirts, Sex In The Kitchen, Threesome - F/M/M, Your son isn't always an angel, domestic stuff, that'd be weird
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-10
Updated: 2017-03-22
Packaged: 2018-10-02 06:04:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10211192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mellyb6/pseuds/mellyb6
Summary: People get new shirts. Some others take theirs off. And have help doing so. What happenedthatThursday night.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Friendly reminder that this takes places before the previous story. Anne's parents aren't in Paris yet. She hasn't told them anything about her new relationship.

Anne will welcome anything to take her mind off her parents soon visiting. Being alone without her son isn't helping so she was actually looking forward to that dinner at the men's. With Tréville so him and Porthos can have an early Father's Day celebration. And so that Tréville can give Mati this replacement shirt he insisted so much on.

 

Perhaps it was only an excuse to spend more time with Mati or the opportunity to actually see his son for something other than being asked to babysit. Either way, Tréville is clearly happy with his early evening. Hunched forward on the couch with Mati when Anne arrives on Thursday night. Captivated as they are by a magazine. Much quieter than she would have anticipated.

 

“Aramis is late?” she asks when there's only one boyfriend to greet her at the door. An eager one that she has missed. Even if it's just been a few days. With Porthos' smile which can light up rooms and his strong arms hugging her close. Until he pouts.

 

“He has to fill in for d'Artagnan at the fencing gym. It was all very last minute.”

 

“Oh.” Anne is as disappointed as Porthos sounds. He dips his head to kiss her again. Ignores his father's stare and grin far away behind her.

 

“He'll be back later. If you wait long enough.”

 

“I'll be delighted to.”

 

“Good,” Porthos says, liking the way her eyes shine when she looks up at him. A ray of sunshine after a long day. He fidgets over the next issue he has to address. One she won't like either. “Because there's something we need to talk about actually. About Mati.”

 

“Something's wrong?”

 

The spark in her eyes is replaced by concern at once. Anne even draws back a little from him, ready to speed toward her son to make sure he is intact. He is.

 

“Nothing bad. I had a little chat with his teacher that you guys should know about. Must know about. That's all. But later. He's not injured,” Porthos adds, guessing that it's probably her primary fear right now.

 

Anne raises an eyebrow, not certain whether she can believe him totally. Regardless of how he picks the boy up whenever Mati stays with his father and of how Porthos has parenting problems thrust upon him that he manages to handle quite well. Life doesn't wait for him to be ready for that.

 

Porthos should have known better, he decides in a second. It was a weight on his mind, something he hasn't even told Aramis yet because it would have messed up his evening. But there was also no point expecting that Anne would wait until later. Truth be told, Porthos is upset by what happened, too, since it meant that he didn't have enough time to even try to cook decent food because of Mati's teacher. That's why they're having pizza. Not that anyone will dare complain about it.

 

“Mati, darling, what's wrong?” Anne asks without saying hello to her son. She barely greets Tréville before crouching to be closer to the boy.

 

Mati mumbles as he's pulled to his feet, driven away from the magazine. He shuffles, tries to escape the hug his mother wants to give him. Anne kneels to be at eye level, stopping when it becomes clear Mati is uncomfortable.

 

“Nothing,” he mumbles again.

 

“Porthos said he had to talk to your teacher. Did something bad happen?”

 

“I told you that wasn't it already,” Porthos reminds her. He would get mad he isn't taken seriously but then she shakes her head and looks up with apologetic eyes.

 

“Right. Yes, you did. Sorry.”

 

“There was a problem with his Father's Day gift,” he eventually explains since she's not likely to let it go and Mati won't supply any useful information either.

 

“I don't wanna talk about it!” he whines instead, stomping his little foot and his mother shoots him such a dark glare that he cringes.

 

Porthos sighs. It was the very first time he had to do it. At the school. To come pick up the kid only to be called inside the building by his teacher. One of the times he wished Aramis was here with him because it's the type of situations Porthos doesn't know how to handle. Although they're both at home now, Porthos and Mati and the teacher seemed satisfied in the end so it can't be called a complete disaster.

 

Porthos is proud of himself, even. And bad consequences aside, Mati is a little boy with such a fantastic, big heart.

 

So Porthos sighs again, rubs at one eye and proceeds to explain what he's understood so it doesn't all end in screams and tears.

 

“They've been making Father's Day gifts like I said since it's on Sunday and all. And apparently, Mati hurried to finish his so he could make a second one...”

 

“For Porfos! But my teacher's mean and she _don't_ like Porfos!” Mati stomps his foot again, forgetting about his mother's warning.

 

“That's a bit of a shortcut, kiddo.” Porthos can't help chuckling even if deep in his guts, he's still overwhelmed that Mati would think about making _him_ a gift. Useless as a messy photoframe made by a kindergartner can be. There's never, ever been a moment in his life when he woud have imagined something like that would happen. That someone would create something for him to celebrate a day he used to hate. He's still shocked, hours later.

 

“From what I've understood,” Porthos goes on, “Mati asked for more supplies and was told there wasn't any. The teacher told me they hadn't accounted for stepfathers and...”

 

“But it's not fair!”

 

“Mati, sweetheart, don't interrupt.” But Anne has sat on the couch, her hand on Mati's small back. Warm and caring. She's starting to see the problem.

 

“....and she told him he could only make one and...”

 

“And I don't have one for Papá now!” Mati is close to crying, wanting his mother's arms. The same ones he refused just minutes before.

 

“How come, honey?”

 

“It's _broke_!”

 

“That's what the teacher wanted to talk about. He got really mad and he broke what he'd made for Aramis.”

 

Porthos rubs the back of his neck, clueless as to what to say to make the boy feel better. He's been clueless ever since learning about the outburst. Scolding Mati seemed out of the question but everything he said to comfort him didn't work either. And Porthos is actually also amazed that the child would be strong enough to do the damage the teacher showed him. He's perplexed about the powerful responses Mati's emotional reactions can cause.

 

“Was it an accident? To break the gift?” Anne wants to know.

 

“I put it on the table,” Mati says quietly.

 

“A little bit too hard perhaps?”

 

“....Maybe, Mamá. But now I've nothing and Papá will be sad.” The boy is almost wailing.

 

“I'm sure he won't be. Sorry about that.” She suddenly remembers that Tréville is watching the scene and she apologizes for the disturbance. It mustn't be what was on his mind when he pictured dinner time.

 

“That's all right,” Tréville reassures her, although he has no idea what to contribute to help.

 

“Mati, baby,” Anne says, “Papá is so happy you live with him some weeks that he won't care about other presents.”

 

“But I wanted to give him one on the day. He's never here on the day before,” Mati sobs and Anne's heart clenches at the painful truth.

 

“True. We'll figure something out then. It'll be fine.”

 

“But you won't have anything,” the boy keeps on going, staring at Porthos whose shoulders are heaving a bit.

 

He can't stand the emotions this family makes him feel sometimes. Too much at the same time. Too unexpected. Tréville pats his back when Porthos is at a loss of words. Then he breathes in and out. It still comes out as a strangled gasp.

 

“Trust me, kiddo. Just knowing you wanted to give me something is a present.”

 

God, it sounds as sappy as it feels and Porthos can hardly recognize himself. Mati tilts his head, processing the information yet pouting.

 

“Porthos isn't giving me any present except dinner tonight,” Tréville tries to help out.

 

“And I haven't even cooked it all.”

 

“It's the thought that counts,” Tréville assures the boy, and Porthos.

 

Mati gasps a couple of times, drying the tears on his cheeks with the back of his hand. Reclining against the couch between his mother's legs and her arms across his tiny chest.

 

“It's great you thought of Porthos for Father's Day, sweetie. I'm really happy you did and I'm proud of you. I'm not that you were so angry you broke things that you made yourself. And with your friends around. I know it's hard to accept that you can't always get what you want but it can have bad consequences, you know.”

 

“Charlotte, she wants to speak with Papá tomorrow, too,” Mati mutters, very much aware that he could get into more trouble later because of his attitude. Anne wonders if that's not another reason why he was so incredibly quiet when she first arrived. Mati shies away from the kiss on his cheek.

 

“I can't help with your gift, but I've brought something for you, though. That could cheer you up!”

 

Tréville points at the large bag thrown in the armchair. Just by the name of the store written on it, Anne is ready to argue that they don't need such a gift. One look at Porthos lets her know that it's already been done. And it's obviously useless.

 

“I hope it fits. It's literally the first time I've bought anything for a child and the shop attendant helped but I'm not sure if Mati is taller or smaller than most six-year old.”

 

Porthos watches his father watch Anne peer into the bag to discover the new garments. Waiting for her approval with very expectant eyes. A bit afraid, too, maybe. It makes Porthos' mind off his own confusion and bewilderment to tease Tréville. To reciprocate the pat on the back.

 

Mati's eyes and entire face awake with interest when his mother holds out the brand new shirt for him to admire. He smiles and forgets his tears. At least for a while.

 

“Batman! Awesome!”

 

“He likes it,” Porthos remarks, pointing out the obvious.

 

The boy clasps his hands, forgets to thank his new grandfather until Anne tells him to. Then he fusses over having to try the shirt on. Only to find out it's so great when it's all buttoned that he never wants to take it off.

 

“Can I wear it to school tomorrow, Mamá?”

 

“I'm not the one you have to ask about that.”

 

“Porfos, can I wear it to school tomorrow?”

 

“I don't see why not. You look like a superhero.”

 

It earns him giggles and Mati hurries to hug Porthos' legs, visibly less troubled from his earlier sadness. Porthos picks him up, decides he isn't as heavy as Aramis always claims Mati is, and receives the random request to make the boy fly.

 

A normal demand when he ponders it. Porthos is so used to unusual requests. He's had to make do with so many in the past year. So Mati boasts that he is more Superman than Batman while Anne argues with Tréville that the shirt was enough and there was no need to also buy a jacket. To which Tréville retorts that it was on sale. A bargain, really. A shame not to get it. And Anne won't force him to admit that he's crazy about this providential grandson.

 

Their antics make Porthos sorry by the end of dinner. He groans every time he has to stand up from the table. Mati _is_ getting heavy. Or Porthos is getting old. He hopes it's simply the child growing up. Smart enough now to realize Porthos could deserve to be on the same level as Aramis -almost- when it comes to fatherhood. Smart enough to realize how unfair it would be that a stepfather couldn't get the same recognition as an actual father. Porthos is a little bit proud of Mati and he's certain Aramis will be all emotional as soon as he's been told the whole story. Because he's always emotional when it comes to Porthos and fatherhood.

 

Porthos' back problems are tempered by how at ease Anne seems to be with Tréville. Not that she wasn't before but now that she's officially his girlfriend, that they don't have to be careful around each other, she's even more. She feels so welcome and it feels so natural to have dinner with Tréville. It would be better if Aramis was with them, though. Because Anne finds herself the sole target of many questions Porthos' father had never been interested in when she was just a friend. It's embarassing and Porthos spends his time grumbling, begging for Tréville to stop. Which he doesn't.

 

“You can't blame me for wanting to know your _girlfriend_ better. I want to make sure she's good for you.”

 

“As if you doubted it. And it's Anne, dad. You've known her for months. You're just doing this to embarrass me.”

 

“I think I signed up for that when I became your dad.” Tréville smirks.

 

“I'd say something but Mati's here.”

 

Tréville laughs out loud, a hoarse sound which startles Mati before he laughs, too. Anne does the same because they're cute nonetheless. These two grown men and their complicity. Friends or family and in the end it doesn't matter because Tréville has always been here for his son from the moment he found him. They're the perfect example that blood isn't everything.

 

“She's nice,” Tréville decides after coffee.

 

When Mati has been distracted enough with food and that Anne has stopped being worried for her son. For now. His attitude does require more talking yet Porthos is correct: it could wait until later.

 

When Tréville will have to leave soon. He's not getting any younger and he has a long ride the next day. He can't wait to retire to be done with all this nonsense.

 

Now, Mati has taken advantage of his mother being here to enlist her for bedtime, knowing she'd never say no. He's refusing to take off his new clothes, refusing to go in his bed since it means one step closer to the following day and his father seeing his teacher at drop-off. Amid the anguish and the pain of a lack of Father's Day presents, Mati knows he isn't completely innocent. Nor is he off the hook yet. He was scolded by his teacher, Porfos had to talk to her, which _never_ happens and then his mom was a little angry with him. He doesn't want his Papá to talk to Charlotte, too. Just for some stupid plastic and glitter. It was a stupid project anyway. Mati isn't sorry for what he's done. Only that he has nothing to give anymore. And _that_ is not okay.

 

“Sure she is,” Porthos replies. “You said the same thing about Aramis when you met him. That he was nice.”

 

“I'll probably say it again if you decide to get a third one.”

 

“A third what?”

 

“A third person to date. A boyfriend? Or a girlfriend. Is there a limit to it?”

 

“Shut up,” Porthos mutters, voicing what he couldn't say while Mai was around. Tréville glares, the sort of looks which will always scare Porthos and make him uneasy. “There won't be anymore. They're enough.”

 

They're a lot already. Porthos has never been so exhausted and yet so excited in his life. It's a peculiar cocktail of emotions. It's a wonder he doesn't explode more often.

 

Especially on evenings such as these, with shrills which drive Tréville away quickly.

 

Mati does rush back to say good night, only one leg in his pj bottoms and Anne trailing behind, already giving up. The boy nearly trips and falls to land in Porthos' arms.

 

“Good night, grandpa! Thanks for the shirt! Have a good trip! Bring me a present!”

 

“Mati!” Anne exclaims, shocked. Her son has no manners, in spite of how hard she's working on it. He's too excited.

 

“Papá brings me a present when he's away.”

 

So everybody should, clearly. Porthos wonders how he's taken seriously as a parent when he can't keep a straight face on whenever Mati says something funny without meaning to.

 

“Right. You won't have any if you ask beforehand, though. Sorry.”

 

She apologizes to Tréville yet again, for her son's cunning mind. This, she can't deny. It's just her luck that she has to deal with him on weeks when he isn't staying with her. She enjoys those breaks, no matter how much she misses Mati.

 

Tréville is laughing on his way out, in no way outraged by the little boy. Delighted by the kind of evenings he never imagined he'd live. Mati is definitely getting a gift.

 


	2. Chapter 2

“My dad likes you,” Porthos says when Mati has been in bed for about ten minutes and that Anne is lingering, helping out, getting some quality time with her boyfriend.

 

He winks and she decides she's liking the times when they're just by themselves. So she smiles and lets him gather the empty pizza boxes in her hands to throw them in the trash. Perks of a dinner with almost no food cooked.

 

“I hope he did before tonight.”

 

“That's what I told him. And yes, he did. Are you waiting for Aramis? Do you want some tea?”

 

“Yes. And yes.”

 

“Good. He said five minutes. That's more likely to be fifteen then.”

 

Anne laughs and closes her eyes on instinct when Porthos kisses her because she's just too cute and he hasn't done it enough tonight and they haven't seen each other in days. Anne's back presses against the kitchen door and Porthos hardly stops when Mati's door open agains.

 

“Back to bed, kiddo,” Porthos calls out before the boy is even out of his room.

 

“But Papá....”

 

“Will come say goodnight when he's back,” Porthos says without missing a beat. “Like he always does.”

 

“But Porfos...”

 

“He'll be here in five minutes. Back to bed, Mati.”

 

Porthos is still very much looking at Anne who is instead looking at her son. Except there isn't much to see. Mati is already shuffling back inside his bedroom, mumbling.

 

“That was easy,” she remarks.

 

“He does it whenever Aramis isn't here for bedtime. He knows the drill.”

 

“Does it happen often?” she asks, genuinely interested. Not that she's concerned. Porthos is such a spectacular stepfather, she's blessed. They all are.

 

Porthos scratches his beard, thoughtful, almost drops the pizza boxes and goes to put them in the trash. Anne follows into the kitchen, regretting the kiss that wasn't close to being finished.

 

“Once a week. Twice this week. At first he didn't go when Mati stayed with us. I didn't want him to. Coz I didn't want to be alone with your kid in case I messed up. He's started going more often lately. Coz I think I'm better at looking after Mati by myself.”

 

“You are. You're so good at parenting.”

 

Porthos looks behind his shoulder at the honest compliment. He's really starting to believe it, too, if today is any indication. He rummages in the cupboards for clean mugs, for those fancy teabags Aramis jealously protects.

 

“I didn't expect I'd have to parent so much tonight,” Anne sighs, rubbing her forehead.

 

She leans against the kitchen counter, frowning. Now that Tréville is gone and that Mati doesn't demand her entire attention, she's free to worry about what the boy did at school. She doesn't like what happened at all, even though she believes the teacher handled it correctly. She understands what was going on in Mati's head but it's no reason to act like he did. Anne has no idea where he picked up this attitude.

 

“And for some stupid gifts which will end at the bottom of a drawer,” she mutters.

 

“Don't tell him that. He'll be crushed. Your necklace was pretty,” Porthos replies cheekily.

 

Anne gives a dry laugh. It was. She won't wear it all the days of her life despite what the boy hoped.

 

Cups bang and the tea kettle's noise is growing louder.

 

“You know what I mean. It's causing unecessary drama now. Life would be so much easier without those days.”

 

“You did get flowers but yeah, I get you,” Porthos has to agree.

 

“Life would be so much easier without parents,” Anne decides.

 

Hers visiting is making her nights a nightmare. There's barely a moment in her days when she doesn't think about it. She's run the conversation she'll have with her parents at least a hundred times in her head. It rarely ends with them being happy for her.

 

The box of teabags snaps close loudly when Porthos drops the lid. Anne is picking at her nails, concerned. Chewing on her lip.

 

“I can tell you for a fact that it's _not_ ,” he says, as calmly as he can. He has his entire childhood to prove it.

 

Anne's head jerks up at the words and her face grows horrified when it downs on her that she's just said something terrible because she was being selfish and only thinking about her own problems. Porthos' hands have gripped the edge of the counter but he's staring at her.

 

“Oh, Gosh, yes! I mean, of course no, it's not. I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that. I don't even know why I said it.”

 

“I do. Because of your parents. They're making you nervous.”

 

“Not an excuse.” She refuses to let them interfere tonight. She'll have one more week to worry about them. “I'm really sorry, Porthos.”

 

“It's all right. I've a parent now and he likes my boyfriend _and_ my girlfriend. Lucky me.”

 

“Lucky you indeed. Thank you.”

 

He sets the steaming mug next to her even if she doesn't touch it for the moment. Instead, she stands on her tiptoes to kiss him. To draw him closer, both hands clutching the open shirt he's wearing on top of his tee-shirt. Portho's own hands press on the small of her back, against the soft material of her silky clothes. She's pretty and she smells amazing. She's already forgiven.

 

“I'm just worried about Mati's reactions, that's all.” She can't let it go. Not so soon. She's his mother and it's not okay. Not in a classroom. Tantrums are not allowed at school whether they're justified or not. “He hit you last month because he was frustrated and now he....”

 

“The teacher said he wasn't violent with her or any of the kids. He was just upset and he took it out on some plastic.”

 

“Still.”

 

“Hey, I'm sure it'll be okay. You guys are great with him and I mean, I'm not an expert but I've seen kids do worse in public. He's understood hitting people wasn't allowed and believe me, he's already started to understand that breaking stuff out of anger isn't either.”

 

Porthos rubs her back, sneaks fingers under her shirt to find naked skin to caress. Anne leans closer at the slow touch. He understood long ago that Anne was a mother before being anything else. There's no point wanting to stop her being one no matter how much he wishes it could only be his girlfriend in his arms. He has experience with Aramis having similar difficulties, though.

 

“If it makes you feel better,” he tries, “why don't you stay here tonight and tomorrow you can go talk to this Charlotte with Aramis?”

 

Anne cocks her head at his innocent eyes. Then at his playful grin. Porthos' face is only inches from hers, her arms hugging his waist and he's intoxicating. Hypnotizing. So is his suggestion.

 

“Is that a ploy to make me stay the night? Because I live ten minutes from the school anyway.”

 

“....Maybe it is,” Porthos admits. “But it's inviting, you can't argue with that.”

 

“Yes,” she breathes out. Porthos' gaze is compelling. He's trapping her against the counter and against his mouth.

 

Porthos kisses her harder than before, teasing with his tongue a little and then Anne smiles, her hands creep up to his neck and her mouth opens. She moans at the heat on her lips, on her back. Hot fingers on her skin. She shivers in spite of herself when they graze below the waistband of her pants. Only for a second and they move up her back again. Fingernails racking lightly.

 

“Are you distracting me?”Anne gasps.

 

“Is it working?”

 

“.....It is.”

 

“Good. I do respect Anne the mother but she's had her turn. It's Anne the woman I want.”

 

This is a request she can surrender to rather easily. It makes her brain shut down for a while. She draws Porthos in for another kiss, her hands in his hair, pushing him closer. She's forward: he likes that. She's not so shy anymore with him and it's getting better. The kitchen counter digs into her back until Porthos makes her chase after his mouth. He grips her hips, rubbing with his thumbs back and forth, half on her stomach and half on the top of her pants. Toying with the limits, testing what she'll let him do, always on the watch-out for Mati being needy.

 

Anne doesn't show any sign that she'd want to stop, though. She stumbles back under the force of the kisses and the tongue thrusting in her mouth. The eagerness that Porthos displays and how he pants. How his shoulder flexes under her hand. Tea splashes on the counter when Anne braces herself on it to stop from staggering. His mouth is hot and wet in her neck. His fingers are making her stomach tingle. A smooth massage which seems to last forever. Anne feels all mushy when Porthos pauses and gives her one tiny peck on the lips.

 

His breathing is labored and he stares at her with eyes so dark that Anne can't look away. Mesmerized.

 

“Not the entire night, not to confuse Mati but yes, I'd love to stay for a few more hours,” she decides. Porthos is electrifying. She would say Aramis now has the same effect on her yet he isn't here at present.

 

Porthos grins in response, gives her another kiss. He can feel Anne's body shudder. She's sexy with her hair up. With her smart clothes and her smeared lipstick.

 

“Wise decision.” His words make Anne giggle. “I like it. You're hot.”

 

“You're a very good distraction,” Anne confesses, her chest heaving. She's liking the flirty tone that Porthos uses more and more with her.

 

“I aim to please. And you're pleasing me.”

 

Anne gasps at the fingers on her pants, the ones working the buttons open. Porthos kisses her, kisses the corner of her mouth and then proceeds down her neck. Where her skin is so sensitive it makes her grow dizzy. Along with the hand so slowly dipping in her clothes to graze her underwear. It's all going so fast but she has no time and no will to worry about it. It's Porthos and he's careful yet so very skilled. She actually wishes he'd do more than just toy with the waistband of her panties.

 

Her pants pool to her feet very quickly, which she half-expected but it's forward. She's glad she always goes barefoot inside. Her thigh is smooth when Porthos ghosts his fingertips over it. They leave goosebumps in their wake. Anne clutches the hair at the base of his neck, keeping him close. Her right hand has found its way under his tee-shirt, grabbing at the warm skin. Porthos moves even closer to her, flushed to her chest.

 

“Here?” Anne manages to ask.

 

“What?”

 

It's muffled against her shoulder. Porthos has moved on to working her shirt open but the buttons are so small that he has trouble blindly doing it.

 

“In the kitchen?”

 

His tongue licks down her chest to the small patch of skin at the top of her shirt where the buttons were never done in the first place. Her chest rises and falls fast under his mouth sucking.

 

“Aramis and I have sex here.”

 

“Of course you do,” she chuckles because she should have expected such an answer. It comes out as strangled yet it makes her laugh anyway and Porthos looks up, amused. Her eyes are sparkling, her cheeks are a bright pink.

 

“What that means?”

 

“That you love.....having sex.”

 

“True.” He's happy she's comfortable with him now in this aspect of their relatinship. That she hardly blushes anymore when confronted with this side of their life. “I....fucked him on that very counter,” he whispers and Anne can only shudder. From the thoughts flooding her mind and his hoarse voice. He looks like he could eat her alive, which is strangely arousing.

 

“Want me to show you?” Porthos dares her but doesn't even wait for a proper answer.

 

He lifts her up and sits her down on the counter. Much better now to kiss. She doesn't have to tiptoe all the time. Anne moans when he steps in between her legs and pulls her to him. So that her underwear is against his jeans. The material rubbing against her. Porthos' fingers knead her thighs now that she's taken over unbuttoning her own shirt. For Porthos' sake and the sake of her clothes. It shimmers in the light when it's finally pushed open to reveal her stomach. And such a sexy bra that it makes Porthos' head turn. To have someone as irresistible as Anne in his arms.

 

She moans louder, biting her lip as he pushes the garment off her shoulders completely. His hands are rough but it's what she prefers about them. In a bold move, she pushes his own shirt off him and tugs on his tee-hirt as well.

 

“You're impatient. I like that, too,” Porthos rasps in her ear. How she no longer hesitates when she's caught up in the moment. How she may not really voice what she wants yet it's clear what she desires.

 

Her stomach reacts to every single one of his touches. So does his when Anne finally gets her hands on him. Rubbing thoroughly, drawing out the sharp muscles.

 

“You have very enticing.....arguments.”

 

And for once, after being hesitant with them, Anne is acknowledging what she wants and she's not ashamed of it. And she wants more than kisses. It's been too long and they haven't been her boyfriends long enough for her not to want to make out with them whenever they're together. With Porthos being so hot and clearly excited, she hopes it'll never stop.

 

“Such as?” Porthos taunts.

 

He groans at her palms on his nipples so Anne does it again and again, figuring out what he likes by herself. She's gasping around the tiny, really ridiculously tiny thrusts he's giving against her crotch. An exhilirating feeling simply because he's not doing it fast enough. He's teasing, knowing full well what it's doing to her. It's making him hard, too, to watch her let go so easily. She moans. A tad too loud.

 

“Careful,” Porthos warns.

 

“Right. But you're....”

 

“I know. You're enjoying it.”

 

He nips at her neck, kisses the underside of her ear, palms her breasts and she arches her back into him. He has to silence her with his mouth and Anne's tongue is swirling around his. Her hair tumbles down her shoulders and Anne can accept one less hand on her bra if it means Porthos' fingers running through the locks. It's so soothing and it's making her feel things all the way down to her toes.

 

“You also liked when I mentioned Aramis,” Porthos states and Anne can't deny this. She's never been able to from the very first time they were honest with each other. The men still like pointing it out. She thinks they enjoy it. “You like the thought of the two of us together....fucking.”

 

Anne's answer is a nod. She clutches Porthos' hip, anchors herself with one leg wrapped around his waist. Never strong enough for him to stop moving. The bra rubs on her skin as he kneads it and it's making her breasts so sensitive.

 

“Does that....make me weird?” Anne has often wondered about it. It's taken her a long time to admit that she fancied it, even to herself.

 

“Nah. Aramis and I think about you sometimes when we have sex. It makes things better. Hotter. To talk about you in bed.”

 

Anne would find it strange if their relationship was any different. Creepy perhaps. It'd be hypocritical. Besides, she _is_ fooling around with Porthos. She's been dreaming about it and now she gets to do it as often as she wants. And they _are_ talking about Aramis so....

 

“Is it okay with Aramis?” she suddenly asks, stopping Porthos with one firm hand on his chest. He stills on the clasp of her bra.

 

“What is?”

 

“Us doing this while he's not here?”

 

“Oh, I....” It hadn't crossed his mind. He was too excited to spend time with Anne without Mati or Tréville around. “We've sex without you.”

 

“That's different. You're already a couple. I mean, you were together before I came in the picture.”

 

Anne breathes heavily, missing the lack of any movement even though she initiated it.

 

“We've....we've never discussed,” Porthos realizes. It's always been the two of them with Anne so far. Would Aramis be mad?

 

“Perhaps we should. I mean, you _are_ my boyfriend and I'm enjoying being with you as much as being with the both of you....” Porthos winks and grins at her admission, making her laugh softly and he takes his hands off her to rest them on the counter. He doesn't move away, though. “....but we said we'd talk about everything. It's safer.”

 

“Yeah, you're right.” Porthos is very close to pouting. “Can I still kiss you?”

 

Because stopping everything altogether is _so_ hard, even if he understands her reason and ultimately, he does agree. He hasn't even considered what it'd make him feel if the others decided to have sex without him.

 

“Kisses we know we're okay with.”

 

Deep down, Anne hates not having thought about what they were doing earlier. Too caught up in the moment that she was. Porthos is too hot and too sexy to resist. Gorgeous. It was easy to lose herself in him. His kisses are still heated nonetheless and Aramis almost gives them both a heart attack when he opens the door to the kitchen. Thank God it wasn't Mati.

 

Aramis nearly drops his bag in surprise as he takes in the sights: Anne down to her underwear all wrapped up in Porthos. He can practically see the steam rise up from their embrace.

 

“This is better than cold pizza.”

 


	3. Chapter 3

Aramis' bag drops to the floor with a thud because it's not needed anymore. Fencing is out of his mind for now. What the others were doing before being interrupted seem far more appealing to him. Making out is always more interesting. Especially when Porthos is also involved. Aramis strides to them after closing the door behind him.

 

Anne hops down from the kitchen counter after Porthos has taken a couple of steps back. In spite of how hyped she still feels, and the way her heart is hammering -both from the making out and the fright of Aramis' sudden entrance- she's cold. Without Porthos' hands or mouth on her. She's also light-headed when her feet touch the floor. Her shirt has landed in the spilled tea, because of course it has, so Porthos sheepishly hands her his own shirt to wear. It falls almost all the way down past her knees.

 

“You're lucky that wasn't Mati,” Aramis remarks.

 

Anne shudders at the very thought. It would have been mortifying. A conversation she hopes she'll never have to have.

 

“You should know better, Porthos,” Aramis adds, side-eyeing his boyfriend.

 

“Why? Has he....before?” It's almost a strangled gasp and Anne has to clear her throat.

 

“Once. Almost. I was still fully clothed, though. And you're...I mean, you're gorgeous,” he compliments her as she buttons up the shirt. “But yeah. Next time you should be more careful.”

 

“Yeah, I got....sidetracked,” Porthos admits as he puts on his tee-shirt. His chest heaves and he welcomes his boyfriend with an open-mouthed kiss. Apparently Aramis liked the scene he walked in.

 

“Porthos was ….. distracting me,” Anne tries to explain, smoothing her hair. Before she moves on to gather scattered clothing.

 

“From what?”

 

Aramis is gripping Porthos' shoulder, tired from the long day and the unexpected exercise yet pleasantaly surprised by what the others were up to. It must have been a much better dinner than what Porthos hoped for. Aramis certainly didn't expect that either. His boyfriend is hot all over, flushed that they are together and Aramis loves it. When Porthos is turned on.

 

Anne looks at Porthos rapidly, reluctant to bring up the Father's Day gifts so soon, without letting Aramis settle down. Even though they'll need to talk about it before she leaves. They might as well get it over with. She much preferred kissing Porthos. An exhilirating position and when she ponders where it may have led them if they hadn't been interrupted, her head turns. She shivers even. It's something that she's positive she wants.

 

They do need to discuss what they were doing without Aramis, too, though. So one way or another, she's not getting kisses in the immediate future.

 

“Something happened at school,” Porthos supplies for the second time this evening. “I had a talk with his teacher and she wants to see you in the morning.”

 

Aramis and Anne are so in sync when it comes to their son that his reaction is almost identical to hers when the problem is exposed. Even if Aramis is a little proud of Mati for calling out the school's policy about stepfathers. He'll figure out a way for the boy to have something for Porthos who deserves it immensely.

 

“We need to talk to him about how to react when he's angry,” Anne worries and Aramis pulls her onto his lap now that he's sitting. She smells like Porthos and he enjoys it. The two smells blending together on her skin. “I've talked to him already but you should....”

 

“Sure. He needs to know it's not okay with any of us. Don't worry.” He kisses her neck softly, gathers her hair to look at her face and her tentative smile.

 

“And I'll find you a gift which isn't broken,” she promises.

 

“I'm running low on tee-shirts.”

 

“ _Shut up.”_

 

Aramis chuckles, his breath tickling the nape of her neck. He's a nice distraction, too, because she doesn't have Porthos anymore who is now leaning against the wall, arms crossed on his chest, staring at them both. Parenting and worrying their pretty heads about their son. Besides, her tea is too cold to be enjoyed now. A waste of an expensive teabag. It's worth it if it means being flushed with Porthos and then being hugged by Aramis.

 

“He's a cute kid, Anne. Our son. Always has been. Too clever for our own good and so incredibly smart. He's never had any problems at school before today, which is actually surprising given that he transferred from another country. I'm not saying what he did is excusable and there should be consequences but I'm not too concerned about it. He'll understand this as well. You can come tomorrow if you want.”

 

Anne's gaze flickers toward Porthos at Aramis' suggestion. Because he offered the same thing earlier. Porthos smiles and dips his head when he notices. They are so attentive to her needs as a mother. Two exceptional boyfriends.

 

“I'd like to, yes.”

 

Aramis' arms tighten around her waist in response before he lets go and taps her thigh to make her stand up.

 

“Good. I'll go say goodnight now. Hopefully he's asleep and he didn't hear your acrobatics.”

 

Anne groans, embarassed. Ashamed that she could have traumatized the boy for ever. She's not used to having to be careful with one of her boyfriends when her son is around. There was never the possibility that he could catch his mother in a compromising position until a month ago. But then again, he's only six. He wouldn't have understood that. Still, she won't be fooled twice. None of them will be allowed to take her clothes off unless the door is locked. Regardless of the room they are in.

 

But at least she's reassured. More than she was when Porthos talked to her. Because Aramis didn't overreact. What's the point when Mati's anger has passed and he is more likely to be too drowsy to accept a discussion so late at night. It can wait until morning. He won't like it then, like he didn't like having to tell his mother yet he'll have no choice and it'll be an issue happily resolved. Hopefully.

 

“Don't listen to him. He's just teasing coz he's a pain and he's missed us. Aren't you?” Porthos stops short of rolling his eyes when he catches his boyfriend's cheeky smile and how Aramis pats his chest before kissing him. Because he's missed him indeed. Because he loves him.

 

And Porthos is absolutely correct. Besides, Aramis does remember a few times when they were louder at the beginning when Mati was staying with them. They've gotten better at it.

 

“I am, sweetie. I couldn't hear anything so I doubt he did.”

 

“We're still going to your bedroom,” Anne decides, taking the lead. It's the safest room in their home. It has a lock.

 

“Oh, nice. So you're planning on staying?” Aramis turns on his heels, a nice swirl in the middle of the living room. Very interested by where the night could potentially lead. He's not that tired. And from what he interrupted, he sure hoped they weren't done just because he was home.

 

“Porthos offered.”

 

“Excellent! Go ahead, then.” He practically shoves them both out of the way so he can get to his son and to them next faster.

 

Porthos calls him bossy, Aramis pouts and Anne can't stop smiling now, shining on the inside at how cute her boyfriends are together. All the little glimpses at their domestic life she gets to witness when she could only vaguely guess at them in the past. How delightful it is to be with them instead of alone in her home. She could use more time with them. Definitely. Discovering everything that makes them so lovable.

 

The book which is on Porthos' nightstand for example. Fat and with a brand-new look to it. The bookmark a few pages in. She grabs it, settling at the head of the bed to study the back cover. The mattress sinks around her when Porthos joins her, his jeans brushing the naked skin of her calf. He's so close Anne can hear his breathing in the relative silence. It's impossible to ignore him.

 

“You don't get much free time to read either, I suppose. I don't. I haven't picked up a proper book in weeks.”

 

“I started this one on Monday,” Porthos replies. It adds an impressive dimension to what Anne imagined then. He must be a fast reader. He's on page 30 already. He chuckles at her stunned eyes. Then he shuffles impossibly closer, brushing their fingers together when he relieves her of the novel. He doesn't let go and Anne comes into the soft and warm hug easily.

 

“We've a quiet time after dinner,” he explains. “When we don't have company over. When nobody's allowed to speak for like, ten minutes. And has to be on his own. That's about the only times we get to read with Mati here.”

 

The best house rule the men have ever instituted. Porthos was beginning to miss his books very quickly after they had to care for Mati themselves. It's better now.

 

“What books do you like?” She would have never presumed that he would enjoy them so much but it's a nice surprise.

 

“Anything as long as it's fiction.”

 

Her head is in the crook of his neck, listening intently. She's folded her legs against his side and she does enjoy how his hand trails down her back to the top of her thighs, bunching up her -his- shirt. Anne looks hot in it and even though the heat they were feeling in the kitchen has been dampened for a while, Porthos enjoys this growing intimacy as well. Just waiting for Aramis to catch up with them.

 

“I didn't have a lot of friends at school,” Porthos says quietly. “So I'd always go to the school library during recess or when I had an hour to spare. Coz then, I wouldn't look so lonely and miserable if I had a book. I read entire shelves. Aramis took me on this amazing date once. We hadn't been going out for long but he knew how to win me over. We spent hours in that tiny, dusty bookstore that I couldn't find again if I wanted....”

 

“Yes, you could,” his boyfriend retorts, padding in the bedroom, cleverly locking the door behind him. He's chewing on leftover pizza as he kicks off his shoes and sits cross-legged by Porthos' side. “You'd follow the smell of paper.”

 

Porthos snorts, kisses away the tomato sauce on the corner of Aramis' mouth.

 

“I remember that day. It was perfect. Hours browsing books. We should do it again.”

 

Porthos can only agree. Then he tries to steal an olive from his boyfriend's slice and Aramis withdraws hastily, with menacing eyes. He shields his plate from further attempts.

 

“ _I_ haven't had dinner yet. Go back to the smooching since you seemed so engrossed in it. You were doing just fine without me.” Aramis winks, chews on his cold pizza. He frowns a little. “And to be honest, if it hadn't been for this whole school business, it's not pizza I'd be eating right now. I certainly didn't expect that dinner with your dad would end with Anne naked on the kitchen counter.”

 

“I wasn't _naked_.”

 

“Sure, let's talk semantics.” Aramis winks again and Anne scowls, playing with the hem of Porthos' shirt, repositioning herself on the bed so she's no longer flushed with him but facing the two men instead.

 

“We....hmmm....we actually meant to talk about that with you,” Porthos starts when Anne has urged him to say something. With a slight nod. She was about to nudge his foot, too, but he can take a hint. Aramis doesn't seem displeased by the scene he walked on earlier yet Porthos has been learning never to assume what was going on in his boyfriend's head. “You don't look it but....are you angry?”

 

“About....?”

 

“That we were....well, doing what we were doing without you?”

 

“Oh.” Aramis pauses, refects on it. He was too surprised then too focused on his son to really ponder it all. “You've gone on dates without me.” And he's fine with it.

 

“Yeah but that's not the same. It wasn't a proper date even. You always knew what we were doing then. Tonight wasn't planned and I don't know what it is but once I start kissing you,” Porthos says to Anne, “I just can't seem to be thinking rationally.”

 

“Same thing happened to me with you, Porthos,” Aramis agrees.

 

His boyfriend used to be like a drug. Aramis was never able to keep his hands off him at the start. Sometimes he wonders if it has ever changed. Wanting to jump him whenever he can. And Anne is sexy, often without meaning to, which makes her hotter. Aramis is aware of this as well. As confident as she is growing in their intimacy, he plainly understands the attraction.

 

“I don't know what would have happened if you hadn't barged in, 'mis.”

 

If it had only been up to him, Porthos would have made love to her right there in the kitchen. No second thoughts spared. No worry about romanticism or going slow. Too carried away to stop and ask himself if he was doing the right thing. Anne's hot skin under his fingertips and her full breasts in his palms are making him hard again. Just conjuring up the sensations in his mind is doing that to him. Porthos shifts on the bed, adjusts his legs, clears his throat.

 

“It....would have gone a long way. Probably all the way,” Anne admits in a soft but steady voice. “I do....want you and you always make me feel so special and so loved.”

 

She can't be sated of any of them, of _sex_ with them and Porthos in her arms, pressed against her, thinking only about her, his erection grinding again her underwear, it's making her giddy with desire even though it's not happening right now.

 

Porthos feels a rush of heat flood to his crotch and he fights with his body to not reach out and resume where they left off earlier.

 

In the seconds after her admission, Aramis gazes at her honesty, the words voicing out what it is she wants. To have some pleasure of her own, not afraid to state so. Their relationship is getting so much better. He can't help staring at them both, the way Anne's eyes flicker to Porthos and how Porthos' chest heaves a bit faster in spite of how he's trying to remain in control because it's a serious conversation.

 

“I'm still dreaming about making love to you,” Aramis concedes.

 

And it's been almost two weeks. Too long. They don't have entirely enough private time with her. She's not the only one craving physical touch. The men have each other and make good on this but having Anne makes it so incredibly more intense.

 

Porthos clutches the hand his boyfriend has laid on his jeans, no longer interested in food.

 

“But I was there, 'mis, and you might not have been tonight. I'm aware we're only talking speculations since nothing happened, but would you feel the same if we'd have sex and you weren't there?”

 

Aramis turns it in his head, yet it is hard when nothing of the sort truly occurred. He was more excited to join in the fun to worry about potential sex. It's a valid question, though. One he's glad the others thought about. _Would_ he have been upset? He was mad about the first stolen kisses -with good reasons- and he was shaken by Porthos and Anne's unexpected feelings for each other. He's been learning to accept and embrace it. Aramis was astonished that Porthos could unlock some newfound love he now feels for Anne. He's good with kisses now. He even finds it hot to watch. Exactly like Anne does.

 

“I know I always said I love watching you two kiss and even do more, it really.....turns me on, but Porthos is always so _him_ and it's hard to resist and....”

 

“You've got the hots for Porthos, yeah, I know. So do I. Who could resist you, sweetie? You're like, oozing sex even when you're not trying.”

 

Porthos respondes to the compliment with a low growl which does nothing but entice his boyfriend further. Aramis kisses him full on the lips, his tongue deep in Porthos' mouth, one hand grabbing his tee-shirt and Porthos' hands are on Aramis' face, keeping him close. Giving Anne just what it is she enjoys the most.

 

“But I wouldn't do anything that'd make you resent us,” she continues when finally, there's a pause in the kissing. “Being with you both is perhaps more attractive to me. I just think I've been so starved for years that my brain shut down the second Porthos started touching me.”

 

“It's hotter than I imagined,” he rasps. “Being able to touch you and having you both. You're driving me insane. Together or separately.”

 

“.....To be honest, I don't know how I would have felt tonight,” Aramis decides. “But sex is....different than kisses. Together is perhaps better, but if you do want without me....”

 

He'd learn to accept that, too. It's their desires and they matter as much as his. Porthos shakes his head. Aramis is still frowning and they did agree they wouldn't do anything which would make someone uncomfortable.

 

“We're taking all of us into account, remember? I'm not saying it's your fault, Anne, but you've no idea what your kisses do to me. I seriously didn't plan you'd be _almost_ naked so fast. I'm glad you stopped me before we could regret it. I don't want to upset you. I do prefer when you're here, though, cupcake. You and your mouth.”

 

Aramis grins, goes for another kiss with that very tongue and Anne squirms on the bed, picking at the bedcover. They're making it harder for her to breathe. Porthos' hands have moved down to his boyfriend's waist, the thumbs disappearing underneath his clothes and Aramis makes great delighted noises.

 

“Together then?” she has to ask because she needs a clear answer to her worry and knowing who the men are they could get carried away quickly again.

 

They both turn to gaze at her and agree. Their lips barely stop touching for a second. She's perfectly, absolutely good with the decision and Aramis did seem unsettled by the question, no matter how hard he tried not to show it. It's something of another world to have them both with her in the room and in bed already and she's so fortunate they're letting her be there. That soon they'll all be naked and touching, Anne has no doubt about that. That everyone will be comfortable and really, she'll learn to control her desires when she's alone with one of them.

 

For now, Porthos' shirt may be thin, it feels like it's trapping heat against and under her skin.

 

“Yeah, I think I'd prefer that,” Aramis eventually admits. “When it comes to sex.”

 

“Are we talking _everything_ together or are there exceptions? Like the kisses?” Porthos finds that they have overlooked so many aspects of being together before but then again, they're all learning at the same time. He struggles for breath and hisses at the hand cupping his junk and squeezing.

 

“We have later to discuss that. Because right now, I'm here with you so you can resume whatever you wanted to do.”

 

Aramis smirks, licks his lips, gives a very loud kiss to Porthos, then feels the air to yank Anne's hand and pull her closer to them.

 


	4. Chapter 4

Anne falls on Porthos' lap, one of his arms on her waist for a second until she's steady. Breathing heavily at the two men crowding her. Then more at Porthos' hot mouth in her neck. Sucking as he gets busy unbuttoning his shirt. He's more skilled this time around than when she was wearing her own. The only distraction is Aramis' kisses in _his_ neck and the hand stroking down Porthos' back. He's pushed himself away from the headboard and Aramis' fingers are warm in the small of his back.

 

Anne sighs, satisfied, when Porthos undresses her for the second time tonight and his lips trail along her shoulder then all the way up to her lips. Parted already, letting him in her mouth. His tongue is soft and slow and once the shirt is completely off her, discarded somewhere it won't bother them anymore, she sneaks her arms around Porthos' neck.

 

A shiver runs down her spine at _his_ hands on her thighs. How he clings to her, pulling her closer, as close as they were in the kitchen. His thumbs are grazing her underwear, taking their time. Nor rushing yet straight to the point. Anne clings to his tee-shirt, to his mouth, to the heat they are re-awakening.

 

She's squirming on Porthos' lap, more so every time his fingers rub her stomach, her lower back, her butt lightly. It's making Porthos stiffer, more eager and he groans once Aramis bites down on his neck before he soothes the sting. With his lips sucking the spot and his hands dragging up and down his boyfriend's clothed chest. Aramis is still very much watching the others nonetheless.

 

The langorous kiss, the gasps when Anne needs to breathe and how she chases after Porthos. Always. His hand cradling her face, the one splayed on her ass keeping her right where she is. Against his hot crotch and the hard-on in his jeans. The one she can feel so completely that it's impossible to stay still.

 

Porthos drags his palm to her bra, so slowly that it makes her skin tingle with warmth. Anne lets out a strangled moan escape when he grazes a nipple, playing. This is exactly how well she felt in the kitchen earlier. Being taken care of while taking their time. She'd speak out to tell them so but she fears her words would be incoherent. They'll have to make do with her noises. Her closed eyes and the way she throws her head back as Porthos dips his to kiss her breast. The red fabric of the bra. The tip of his tongue giving little licks and then somehow, Aramis has moved and he's behind her.

 

His chest to her back, his hand on the clasp of her bra and it's off. Hastily removed. Porthos' mouth on naked flesh and hard nipples. Aramis' palm on her stomach, steadying her. Rubbing. Always moving lower and he doesn't hear any complaint. Anne's skin is smooth, a bit sweaty when he drops kisses along her neck. Below her ear. She can hear his even breathing. The only sound she can focus on. With Porthos waking up every inch of her chest and Aramis' hand stroking a breast.

 

He looks at Porthos, Anne trapped between the two of them and there's such desire and actual hunger in his boyfriend's eyes that Aramis feels that he's somehow starving for them, too.

 

Anne grabs Porthos' shoulders when he stretches to manage to kiss Aramis. Right there with her in the middle. A quick dance of tongues and Aramis groans as she kisses his cheek and he presses more onto her breast.

 

“For the sake of everything, I'm gonna get naked,” Porthos rasps.

 

Because he's growing uncomfortable with so many clothes on. The others nod but Aramis is still trying to get kisses and Anne hasn't budged, straddling him. In a mess of tangled limbs, Porthos does manage to take off his tee-shirt, only to have sweaty hands feeling him up, not giving him a break. Aramis wraps one arm around his boyfriend's shoulders, shifts a little to accommodate Anne, his fingers resting on top of her underwear. Her heart hammers against Aramis. He desperately wants kisses. He desperately wants to touch and create the magic which always occurs when the three of them are together. All so comfortable and happy.

 

Even when Porthos tries to make Anne lie down so he can take off his jeans but they end up stumbling on the bed. Aramis landing on his back, Anne half lying on top of him, his arm around her waist, yet she knocks the breath out of him. It was a bit violent for her to fall on him like that, to lose her balance. Especially as Porthos somewhat loses his precarious one as well and almost falls upon them both. Bracing himself on his hands.

 

“Shit. Sorry.”

 

“Now, _these_ are acrobatics,” Aramis jokes while Anne lifts herself up so that he's free.

 

She's giggling, so is he. Porthos snorts, amazed and thankful that they could be so funny and so awkward and not be embarassed by it. They're so pretty, lying there on the bed, Anne in nothing but panties and Aramis taking his boyfriend's wise suggestion to undress. He's getting hard, too, and Porthos bares his teeth at the outline of Aramis' cock in his underwear. Then he can see it for himself, long in his boyfriend's fist and Anne can't help looking either.

 

Aramis has eyes for Porthos only, though. The fumbling with his belt and the buttons and how finally, quickly, everything is shoved down so he's naked, too. With his mouth open, looking at Anne looking at Aramis stroking his own cock. Porthos does it, too. Once, twice before he scrambles to kiss Aramis, to lie down on top of him. Eagerly yet gently.

 

Aramis purrs with delight, one leg shooting up to his boyfriend's waist. One foot on his ass. Pushing. So that their cocks rub together with every move of their hips. A sloppy rhythm but so are their kisses. Too fast and messy and Aramis doesn't mind how in the process Porthos bites his lip. After all, there's a hand mandhandling his ass, nails digging in as Aramis gets grabby and needy.

 

It's a perfect dance to watch, one that's been done time and time again. The grinding, the flesh gliding against flesh. Porthos seemingly heavy on Aramis, eventually trapping his boyfriend's hands high above his head. The strength forcing Aramis to comply and be touched without touching. Porthos' grip on the other's waist seems so incredibly tight yet Anne can't see it as a problem. Aramis' ragged breaths are of pleasure, not of pain. Tiny gasps everytime Porthos drags his cock onto his boyfriend's with such terrible force that it makes Aramis see stars. Blinding spots floating behing his eyelids and he's so hard. It's so good.

 

Then it all slows down. The kisses grow more sensual, their tongues rolling together, no longer fighting. Porthos teases with the tip of his, licking Aramis' lips. The rolls of his hips become less shallow. More thorough. More pressure and Aramis moans happily. Porthos is pressing so completely down on him. On his wrists. On his hip. Before this very hand glides over to their cocks and Aramis hisses at how his boyfriend strokes them both together. A firm grip and such hard erections that each touch makes Aramis stutter, gasp around his desire.

 

“I don't know who I want more tonight,” Porthos whispers in his boyfriend's ear. Licks it. Casts such an intense look at Aramis that his hips jerk up. Into Porthos' fist and the thumb on his cockhead.

 

“I don't see why you'd have to choose. I want you, too.”

 

Aramis swears, precome sticking to Porthos' fingers who rocks back to balance his weight. Porthos starts at the tentative hand on his back. It's the first time Anne has deliberately interrupted them, that she's made a move while the men were focused on each other. He adores it. How confident she's growing. Her blue eyes shine as she sits up, gazing at them both. Her breasts are half hidden by long curly hair. White skin begging to be caressed.

 

“Hi,” Porthos rasps.

 

“I want you, too,” she says softly, not an ounce of hesitation in her voice.

 

Simple, honest truth. It's like an electroshock for Porthos. He squeezes both his and Aramis' cock a bit too strongly which results in more gasps from his boyfriend yet Aramis doesn't mind the pressure. The fingernails, he could do without.

 

Porthos kisses him to apologize, loosens his grasp, turns his head to give Anne some attention, and falls on the mattress, between the others. Anne's mouth still on his. Her arm across his chest, touching restlessly. Never settling anywhere for long. Her breasts pressed to his side. And this time, it's Aramis who's giving him a handjob. A hot one, pulling on the skin langorously, his tongue teasing Porthos' nipples. The thought of Anne being so ready, so open, it's turning him on, too. That she's so comfortable with them both. Aramis wants to have a memorable night.

 

Porthos' hand travels her back, massages her hair when it reaches it, then down again to her butt, pushing underneath that annoying underwear Anne still hasn't taken off. He clutches her ass as Aramis' tongue is licking lower on his stomach. Dragging along the sensitive muscles and Porthos catches a glimpse of excited eyes as he glances at Aramis. Just before he sucks in a breath at the wet tongue on the tip of his cock.

 

Aramis loses no time taking the whole thing in his mouth. So warm that Porthos' cock slides into it effortlessly. He has to clutch the bedsheets and stop kissing Anne to swear. His head lands on the bed with a thud and Aramis grins in his blowjob. Swirls his tongue loudly over the cockhead. Suckles it. Swallows as much as he can then plays with the glistening cockhead, lips barely brushing it. His tongue licks the entire length, his lips suck as much pre-come as they can and Porthos doesn't even realize the firm grip he has on Anne's butt. He keeps on moving his hand over it. He's so close yet doing nothing and she's becoming so much more turned-on.

 

She wishes Porthos could touch her properly but she understands the distraction. It's great to watch as well. How Aramis' head bob with his moves, how his hand is gently massaging Porthos' balls, drawing cute, keening noises. Porthos has forgotten everything but what's being done to him.

 

It takes a few more glimpses from Aramis for Anne to realize he's watching her. He won't stop staring intently when he catches her eye and she feels her stomach jump at the invitation in his eyes. She does want so much with these men, from them, when it comes to physical pleasure that she barely knows any limits now. They're doing this to her, awakening her and wow. It's like she can't think when she's with them and God does she love the feeling. Letting go. Trying new things.

 

Trailing her hand down to Porthos' thigh, shuffling on the bed to move and be closer to his crotch. Catching the look of appreciation in Aramis' eyes and the delighted surprise with which he kisses her lips when she delicately lands them on Porthos' cock. Touching the hot skin and being kissed at the same time. An awkward peck before Aramis adjusts to give her some room. To let her remember what it's like to go down on their boyfriend. He moves to Porthos' balls instead.

 

“Jesus _freaking_ Christ!” Porthos' entire boy jerks violently in shock at what's happening to him. “Warn me when you pull a stunt like that! Fuck!”

 

“And where would be the fun in that?” Aramis teases. _“You're hot. I want to eat all of you._ ”

 

Anne chuckles at Porthos' groan, the sound echoing on her boyfriend's cock. Her lips are slower than Aramis'. Exploring carefully and it's such a delicious torture. She can feel the blood pulsing everytime she brushes her mouth down the hard length. Porthos is so big and she's afraid she'd choke. She's not as good or as talented as Aramis. But Porthos seems to enjoy it so it doesn't matter. Her mouth is warm and her breathing tickles Porthos' cock as she takes the cockhead between her thin lips. It tastes of salt and Porthos twitches in her mouth. Gargles and swears profusely because Aramis is faster on his balls. Tiny, incessant licks which are so fast it makes Porthos giddy.

 

He had literally no idea someone could feel so many different emotions at the same time. Excitement, pleasure, sweet pain, fear that he's losing control too quickly, complete abandonment. He holds on to Anne's blond hair, his fingers lost in the locks and somehow, it makes her go quicker. That and the way Porthos tugs on her panties, possibly ready to tear them apart because he's done with them.

 

She's wet already, she's been from the moment he lifted her up on the kitchen counter. Porthos can feel it through the fabric but that's not enough. His cock is cold for the few seconds she draws back to get rid of her underwear. It lands so far away in the bedroom.

 

But then Aramis is back on his boyfriend's cock, resuming a magical blowjob and Anne doesn't mind that. Given that Porthos' fingers are between her legs, spreading her wetness. Touching everywhere, pushing inside of her without asking. She moans, pushes herself down on his hand. She pulls herself up to reach his mouth and his intoxicating tongue.

 

Her legs spread wider, on all four that she is. Porthos' hand rests on her ass, his fingers disappearing inside her pussy. Slick and filling her. It's like small caresses on and in overexcited skin. Fingertips on her clit. Circling. Rubbing. Moving in rhythm with his tongue in her mouth. A bit erratic because of Aramis' ministrations and Porthos is growing so hot that he has no idea what he wants anymore.

 

To come in Aramis' mouth. To make love to Anne. To make love to Aramis.

 

All of the above.

 

Aramis catches a flash of naked leg as Anne tries to get so much closer to Porthos and he looks up. At the kiss, at how Porthos is fingering her and it'd be so easy for Aramis to switch targets. Instead, he drags his mouth along Porthos' cock one last time, releases it with a playful click of his tongue and drops his lips to the skin at the top of his boyfriend's thigh. Anne's back vibrates with the depths of her pleasure, relaxing when Aramis' hands smooth it. They cover her lower back, his palms a bit rough and his fingernails graze along her spine. Around her hips.

 

She moans in Porthos' mouth, clutches the bedcover in order not to collapse. Aramis' fingers have joined Porthos', he's flushed to her back, kissing the nape of her neck. Licking the addictive skin. His hand moves with Porthos', their fingers could almost thread and Anne responds beautifully to the touches. To the hard cock that she can feel against her leg, Aramis crowding her space.

 

Then he's caressing her breasts again. Feeling their fullness, circling nipples, barely touching the underside of them. Anne shivers at the fingertips playfully roaming her stomach. Such tingling sensations and a fire inside. From their fingers, from their kisses. From their scents.

 

Aramis' beard on her shoulders. The scratch of it. And Porthos' on her cheek. Her fingernails deep in his arm, looking for an anchor because she's slipping out of control. There's not a sound but those of their bodies and Anne could get lost in the quiet. All the eroticism of simply being with them and trusting them. She does realize that she's moaning and sighing a lot. Porthos' fingers have increased their pace and Aramis' are so close to her clit, brushing teasingly. Tapping lightly. He smiles against her skin whenever it draws happy, contented sounds from her.

 

“I'm thinking ladies first, cupcake. What do you say?”

 

“I think it's a splendid idea, Porthos. Coz the lady's loving it.”

 

“Yes....,” Anne drawls, missing Aramis' mischievious smile even though it makes Porthos chuckle. It also gets his cock's attention. Because Porthos has been dreaming of replacing his fingers with his cock between her legs.

 

Anne's breasts heave with each of her sharp breaths when the men roll her over so she's lying down. Naked. Legs spread so wide and so inviting that Porthos licks his lips. Stares hard at his boyfriend who is caressing her side. Her stomach. Her collarbone. Sharing what's left of Porthos' taste on his tongue with Anne. His hand is cupping her face gently. A short respite. His fingers move down her thigh before starting their journey upward.

 

There's an ache between Anne's legs which needs quenching. A desperate need.

 

“Are you okay?” Porthos asks her quietly and there's such profund care in his voice and on his face, in the way a lone finger traces the outline of her jaw that Anne's heart clenches with happiness for a second before it thuds. Relaxed and not a tension in her body. Extraordinary love and passion and she reaches up for his neck.

 

“....yes,” she chokes, feeling his cock against her. His face the only thing she can see. Lush lips, that adorable nose, the intense eyes. Her world zeroes in on the hand on her hip, all too aware of Aramis who hasn't stopped caressing her.

 

She's shivering underneath Porthos. So beautiful and he knows it's the opposite of fear or cold which is making her act like this. It's expectation.

 

Porthos hasn't made love to a woman in so many years he thought he'd forgotten what it felt like. The warmth, the wetness, the easy way his cock slides inside Anne. She's smooth and welcoming and she's clinging to him, urging him to move. Matching the slow rhythm because it's so exceptionally good that Porthos can only take his time.

 

Her hips roll with his, his ears are buzzing with her moaning. How she's trying to sit up to push him in deeper. Aramis is transfixed by the glimpses of Porthos' cock he gets when it goes deep inside her pussy. Because he knows the feelings which can assault someone when Porthos is making love to them. Aramis wants this thick cock in his ass before the end of the night. He groans, strokes his erection, sucks on Anne's breast when she lets him and hears the hight-pitched noise she makes in response.

 

Porthos silences her, both hands on her hips, pulling her to him harder. Thrusting his tongue in her mouth, sucking on her bottom lip so she can breathe in and out once in a while.

 

Anne props one leg on Porthos' hip, lets him find a new angle and she just never wants it to end. She wants to always have him between her legs. The long, hard length, the teasing cockhead, the bodies grinding together. And Aramis watching them. Until he's kissing her. Because he's sharing someone he loves immensely and it gives Anne so much more pleasure.

 

“ _He's big, isn't he?”_ Aramis mumbles, licking her ear. Anne's answer is a sigh. _“He must touch you in so many incredibles places. And you're so wet....yeah?”_

 

Anne nods, throws her head back and he's kissing her neck and the sweaty skin.

 

“ _You should see his cock in your pussy. It's the most exquisite sight. Want to see?”_

 

His words are like hot charms. Anne grows dizzy and she does love watching so much. The glistening cock and Porthos' face looming above them. Her displeased groan when he withdraws completely and then her little moans as he teases with the tip of his cock. One finger on her clit to make her cry out and Porthos pushes so deep and hard inside her that he knocks the breath out of her.

 

“ _That's how I like to be fucked,”_ Aramis explains, toying with one of her nipples. Rolling it between fingers. He's rubbing his cock. Half against Anne and half on the bedding but it can't be helped. _“Hard and fast. A bit painful. Always like that and Porthos can go for so long. He's_ _incredible.”_

 

“Thanks......cupcake. Fuck!”

 

Anne has wrapped her other leg around his waist, using her feet to bring him down onto her. Their chests touch in the faster rhythm. Aramis has to move a bit.

 

“I'll take care of you after, 'mis,” Porthos promises.

 

“You're already taking care of me, sweetie. Just imagining your cock inside of me. Moving like you are.”

 

Porthos growls as his boyfriend gives him a demonstration. Jerking off. Palming his balls. Grazing his ass. Biting his lip. Porthos thrusts deeper into Anne.

 

Holds on tighter to her hips.

 

“Do you trust me?” he asks.

 

“Of c.....yes,” she gasps, her heart doing somersaults and she has to swallow her long pleased moan when he flips them over so he's the one lying on his back.

 

It makes her sink so completely on his cock, stretching her more. Since Porthos doesn't really know what she enjoys when it comes to actual sex, it's better if she's in charge. Flushed cheeks and cascading hair. Toned stomach, smooth thighs straddling him. Hands flat on his chest and he stifles a curse as she reaches up for a kiss, lying on him. Rolling her hips. Trapping his cock.

 

The way Porthos' hands ghost over her back makes her sigh even more. Feather touches and the leisure rolls of her hips. But Anne feels overexposed. Up there on top of him. Even though she trusts them and she loves them. She doesn't quite know what to do with herself. It doesn't come naturally to her. She shakes her head.

 

“No?” Porthos frowns with unexpected concern, stopping entirely. Waiting for the next shake of her head. He sits up when it happens, gathers her in his arms and they're still so very much connected. Aramis is quiet by his side, too. Waiting as well. “Okay,” Porthos whispers, peppering her face with tiny kisses, moving his hips slowly, taking charge again. He can take the lead if she wants him to.

 

She's happy to let him. Feeling much better like this. Palms splayed on her butt until she's on her back again and for now, she's so overwhelmed that this is fine.

 

Porthos diffuses the tension in her bones, unwrapping her legs from around his waist. Bending one of them, feeling inside of her in a way he didn't before. He threads his fingers with hers, holds on tight, gives more rapid strokes of his cock. Listens to Aramis pleasuring himself again. He watches Anne let go. The small smile on her parted lips. The abandonment in the arch of her back. The frenzy in her happy moves now.

 

So pretty. So hot. Bouncing breasts and slick pussy and Porthos loses it the second Anne is so comfortable again in their love-making, so secure in this position that her hand slides between her legs to her clit. Too caught up in her desire to worry about her actions. Porthos' thrusts become shallower and he drops his head in the crook of her neck, muffling a scream in the bedcover as he comes.

 

Spilling inside of her, hearing her moans somewhere in the sudden din surrounding him. His body shivers, his knuckles are whiter when he releases her hand and his cock feels so tender. So satisfied as he moves out of her pussy to shuffle down her body. To join her fingers and suck on her clit. Still high from his orgasm. Heart thudding, lungs heaving. Hot breath washing on sensitive skin. Teeth closing briefly on her clit. The tip of his tongue lapping at it fast.

 

Sending sparks of hot fire under the tingling skin Porthos just abandoned between her legs. In her coiling stomach. Anne holds on to his hair, gripping, pushing him harder. His mouth dragging down and Anne comes with such a pure sensation of bliss that she can't utter a single sound. Her world revolves around Porthos' tongue and she feels like she's being lifted off the bed. Floating above the men only to land softly in their arms.

 

“Are you okay?” Porthos asks for the second time tonight. Because she's been gasping quite a lot without saying anything and even though he can imagine she liked almost everything, he needs to be sure.

 

“I'm......perfect.”

 

“Good.” He gives her a soft, quick kiss, puts sweaty hair behind her ear.

 

“You're.....good.”

 

“Thank you,” he chuckles. “So are you.”

 

“I love you.”

 

He kisses her again, holds her in his arms, her body trembling slightly yet she buries in his embrace and he finally manages to focus on his boyfriend again.

 

“Do you need a hand, cupcake?”

 

“Or a.....tongue. Whatever. Get over here.”

 

“I just made love to a fantastic lady, 'mis. You could be nicer.”

 

“Get your ass over here.”

 

“If you ask so politely.”

 

Anne laughs at their exchange, feels cold but spent and honestly, she wouldn't want to move from the cozy spot where Porthos puts her. At the head of the bed covered in the bedsheet. Glowing.

 

Porthos tastes like Anne, he smells like her, she's everywhere on him. He has some leftover energy and not enough time to grow drowsy. There are too many sexy people with him in his bedroom.

 

Aramis clutches his boyfriend's shoulder, lets him take charge like he did with Anne. He's close already, the others were quite a sight. Better than watching porn. Because he's part of it.

 

Porthos wraps his hand over Aramis' on his cock, strokes down with him then moves lower to tease his ass. He sucks on his boyfriend's neck. That sensitive spot right below his ear and Aramis keens. Thrusts his hips higher. Spreads his legs wider. Starts at the finger pressing against his ass and there's been so much foreplay and action to watch that Aramis comes all over his fingers.

 

A mess that Porthos is quick to clean, dipping his head once Aramis has grown still and has let go of his cock. Porthos' tongue is hot, thorough, not stopping until his boyfriend is absolutely clean. His cock soft against his lips.

 

Only then does Porthos finally sinks on the bed with a wosh. And a satisfied sigh. Squirming at Aramis' fingers on his stomach. Feeling complete once Anne has joined them, the sheets in tow.

 

“I wish we could do that every night,” she ponders out loud and Aramis hums in agreement.

 

“Now, that's an idea,” Porthos yawns.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And _that's _what happened on that famous Thursday night.__


End file.
